I've Been Thinking . . .

I posed these questions last Friday.

And I can’t stop thinking about them. Would I like to know what was ahead for me—what disease I or a family member may face? Where is the road going to turn dramatically, changing my life for good, and when? Where will my kids end up, will they succeed or fail, will they be happy and healthy and well?

image from here

Coincidentally, we took the grown kids to see “The Adjustment Bureau” Saturday night. And it follows right along with this train of thought. Without spoiling it, the premise of the movie is that there is a definite plan for our lives. Even when the characters were told of their future, they still were caught up in the dramatic developments of today. My review--I think I liked it because it followed the same train of thought I've had for the last week.  Plus, I love Matt Damon, so that always clouds my objective judgment.

I’ve invested a little brain power to this question. And I’ve revisited times in my life (in my journal) where the vision of the future was very dim and undecided. At those times, I desperately wanted to know what was coming, what the answers to my questions were and when they would come. And then I’d read a little (or a lot) further ahead in my journey and see my personal growth through the struggle through the unknown--how I learned and how I changed. How God always knew better and how I needed time to get my will in line with His.

As much as I would love to have answers to some of my questions, I know, deep down, that it’s better not to know. It may be harder and it may be frustrating. But I think if I had known that my path through life would involve losing a child, I would have done everything in my power to avoid it. And then I would never have developed the compassion and empathy and wisdom that experience afforded me. If I had known my path would involve multiple battles with infertility, would I have still worked and tried and fought to have these beautiful children that surround me every day?

It's human nature to avoid difficult, painful things. I don't think we are programmed in a way that we can know the future and still have the strength to plow through all the snarls of mortality. It's also human nature to want to know that same future, thinking if we only knew, then we could handle daily existence much better. That's inaccurate.  Like Tom Norris says in the movie, "I've seen the future, and I don't care."


I wish I could know things:
Will my kids be happy?  Successful?  Burdens on society?  Am I parenting them in ways that will lead them to be productive adults?

Will I die young--too young to enjoy my grandkids or serve a mission with Brad?  Will I be sequestered in my own mind--suffering through Alzheimer's--or will I end up sharp-minded but bodily weak?

Will the economy truly crash down?  Will Qadafhi kill all his people before change occurs?

I haven't been able to adequately express my thoughts.  But it all boils down to this:
I've discovered that I have faith in God, faith to allow Him to lead me and direct my path.  Direct it over the bumps and hills.  And to direct it straight up and over a mountain, if that is what is required.  I may go kicking and screaming, but I'll go.  And I'll try to look out the window and enjoy the ride as often as I can.

Quoting one of my favorite people:  "Come what may, and love it." (Joseph Wirthlin)

I believe that.  I just need to remember it more often.

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